Learning Some Lessons

So I've been recovering from a surgery.  I'm on day 12 of recovery and I've decided that because of what I've learned and experienced to date, it was something that I needed to share.  I won't go into the gory details and explain the ins and outs of the surgery; it's something that was necessary for me to do and I'm taking one day at a time and moving forward.  I will write about what I've learned through this experience though because that's what I want to focus on in this specific post.  

In the months leading up to my operation, I worked hard.  I ate clean and trained dirty.  I focused on getting into really great shape, because everyone knows the healthier you are, the faster you heal!  I was told that the recovery would be long.  So when the doctors told me months, I "heard" weeks.  I just had disillusioned myself to believe that I was stronger than the average Jill and that what I was being told were not really things that applied to a beast like me.  HA. HA. HA.... HA.  

So here I am.  Day 12.  Not only am I still really in a lot of pain, my pride is pretty bruised too.  Let me just be honest, Days 1, 2, 3, 4, oh hell...up to day 7 were pretty much a blur.  I was doped up, asleep most of the time or high as a kite and I am told that I scolded my 6 year old for wearing bananas on his feet.  Yeah, pretty much just under 24 hour watch and care and not really sure what went on those days.   I know that I had a lot of visitors and I have blips of moments and conversations that I can recall with people as they came to see me and care for me and my family.  While I'm talking about those that came to visit us, or called in to chat,  I have just about the best friends and family anyone could ask for and nothing showed that more than the love and support we received and have continued to receive.  

So back to day 7, I had expected good news from my doctor.  I had expected to hear that I was making remarkable progress and that he could not be more amazed with how well I was doing and that I would be on my feet in no time at all.  Remember, I've been completely doped up for a week, I had no idea how I really looked or what I truly felt like.  However, when he looked at me and told me that he had some concerns and that they would need to do a minor procedure because something "didn't look right" and he'd rather just get in there and find out what's going on...well, to say I was crushed is a major understatement.  Lesson:  I am human.  I do not possess super powers and I cannot compare my recovery to anyone or anything else.  It is mine and it will take the time it needs to take, regardless of who I think or believe I am.  I am not in control of this process.  

Days 8-10.  HELL.  Absolute, unequivocal, hell.  I cried non-stop.  I was in agony.  I couldn't believe what was happening in my life.  I felt guilt that I could not care for my family.  Our lives were upside down and I was finally facing reality in that it was going to take some time for things to be normal again.  I felt even greater guilt that my husband had moved his office to our home to care for me round the clock and manage our household; he administered meds, he was never more than 20 ft from me unless he was carpooling kids, walking the dog, putting together meals, or getting something for me that he thought might give me happiness, comfort or put my angst at ease.  He was/is a saint.  I could not be in more awe of this man.  He not only stepped up to care for me, he stepped in and cared for everything.  All with the patience, understanding, love and tenderness that brings tears to my eyes because in our 12 + years together, I have not seen a greater demonstration of absolute love and devotion.  

I woke him from his sleep at 3:30am on day 9.  I sobbed like I hadn't sobbed in years.  I was so completely broken and experiencing just about every negative emotion humanly possible.  He did not even try to rationalize with me.  He did not complain that it was 3:30 in the morning.  He did not mention that for the last 9 days he had slept in either a chair or couch next to me, waking every 4 hours to give me meds, take me to the bathroom, rub my legs, get me water, adjust my pillow, the list goes on and on.  He held me.  He let me cry.  He said it was "ok" and asked what I needed.  HE ASKED WHAT I NEEDED!?!?!  I sobbed harder.  What I needed was to make it all go away.  What I needed was to show him that I was so thankful and that I loved him so much that I could take care of things too, that I was his partner and that he didn't have to do everything.  Of course, at this point we all knew that there was absolutely NOTHING I could do and that he was handling everything.  Alone.  I once again, could not handle the pain of this realization.  I was so devastated by this I fell to pieces and I could not put myself back together again.  Looking at it now...Lesson:  I am loved.  I am with someone that truly puts all his needs aside for the one he loves.  At one point, he was helping me shuffle across our family room to sit, and he held my hand in his and he said, "I'll be your anchor."  He said it meaning, "put your weight into me, so you don't fall."  I heard the truth...He is my anchor.  

Day 10 was my angry day.  I could not even formulate a sentence without completely falling apart.  I had no one to be angry with, and I couldn't get myelf around to even stomp or slam things, so I just laid there and sulked.  I slept when I could, would wake up and cry, I tried to avoid phone calls, but my dear friend, who is also a P.A. and has closely monitored me through this process (I had been dodging her calls for 2 days now) phoned again and I knew if I didn't speak to her she would be beating down the door within the hour.  I answered.  She immediately said, "Spill it" and I did.  I cried and cursed and cried some more.  She said all the right things, made me laugh, listened to me rant and tantrum and well...lose it.  Zero judgment.  She just loved me.  She spoke to me with doctor words and brought me through reality and helped me gain new perspective.  That phone call changed me.  After we hung up, I answered all the texts from everyone else, I took other phone calls, I cried some more with other friends and I stopped saying "I'm fine." and started being honest and started saying "I hurt.  I'm scared.  I need my friends."  Lesson:  I have real friends.  REAL friends.  I learned that these friends aren't just for Girls' Night Out, they are for life.  Daily life; ups, downs, laughs, cries and all that in between.   I have almost 800 "friends" through social media.  I have people who think they know me.  I have aquaintances that are lovely and I enjoy my time with them.  Then I have FRIENDS.  The ones that check in, visit, call, bring lunch or dinner, drop of magazines, send funny little texts throughout the day to make me smile and give it to me straight when I'm having a complete meltdown.  I have FRIENDS that even when I'm not going through something like this, we make TIME for each other.  Even if it's just 30 seconds a day to say, "Hey, thinking of you." As we ended our conversation and I said, "Why on earth would you ever want to be friends with a lunatic like me?"  She laughed and said, "because I love you and I know for a fact you'd be there for me." and she's right.  I look at my dynamic group of incredible women friends and I am so incredibly thankful.  A friend is someone that loves you even when you have nothing to give but YOU...so to all my FRIENDS, thanks babes!  You have NO idea how much I value each one of you.  Your actions warmed my heart and lifted my spirits.  

Day 11, I turned a corner.  I had a good night's sleep (probably from exhaustion of all the crying!) but I woke up ready to conquer the world.  Then I readjusted my perspective and decided I was ready to conquer the hour and just take it from there.  I set myself into a positive mindset and managed to get myself presentable because my husband was taking me to the doctor for a follow up.  I lowered my expectations so that I would not be disappointed.  I went in expecting nothing, I got nothing (meaning not much progress, but no set backs either!)  My husband said, "well that was sort of anti-climatic" but I was just happy to not be disappointed, so for us both, the appt well beautifully.  However, it WIPED me out and I slept most of the day afterwards.  My mom brought us dinner and she was so happy to see me happy and well rested that I thought her heart would just burst.  I managed to have a productive evening with a Webinar for work (thankfully there are a few things that can distract me from this recovery) and I went to bed feeling as though I had given my best and it resulted in a good day.  

Today, Day 12.  I didn't sleep well last night.  My legs and back hurt.  I could not get comfortable.  I laid awake most the night watching the clock waiting for the next round of pain meds.  I felt myself getting frustrated that I couldn't fluff pillows or roll over to my side or really do anything but just lay there and watch the minutes go by.  I was determined to allow my husband to sleep.  I just had to let him sleep.  I knew if I woke him, I'd have another day 9.  I knew it.  So I had a rough night on my own.  As morning arrived, the kids were getting ready for school, Marty was doing the morning scramble (alone again) I felt myself sinking.  I didn't even want coffee or breakfast.  Marty sat with me and rubbed my leg and asked again what could he do.  I cried.  I turned my face to my pillow and cried.  I couldn't face him.  I hated that I was sinking back especially after I had such a good day the day before.  I didn't want to go back to the negative feelings.  I told him that he needed to just get the kids to carpool and I would be ok by the time he got back.  He left and I turned back into my pillow and cried.  Cried hard.  I put on my brave face, but still hadn't moved, not even attempted to shuffle myself to bathroom when he came back home.  He knew it too.  But I saw in his face as he prepared himself for a rough day.  He wasn't scornful or resentful.  He was focused and determined.  He was strong.  I looked at him for a minute and then said, "I'd like to get dressed for work today"  LOL!  So he helped me get ready.  I did my make up and put on a pretty blouse with my sweatpants and even put on jewelry.  He cleaned up our family room (my bedroom) and set a hot cup of coffee by the computer he had moved to the family room and placed near our large comfy chair...and I "went to work".  I worked all morning.  I even had a meeting with my directors (they came to the house) and were very very productive.  The girls were patient with me.  I'm sure I lost focus and I had to apologize many times because I was feeling tired and they had to repeat a lot of conversation and details from previous days.  It felt amazing to work.  I may have pushed too hard, as I was getting more and more tired, but I also felt exhilerated because I was DOING SOMETHING.  It ended up being a fantastic morning, and got even better as one of friends brought my favorite lunch and we chatted for a long while.  Lesson:  I can't control the process, but I can control my attitude.  I made up my mind to be positive and that's exactly what I did. I was cheerful, thankful, honest and faced the day with the mindset that I could get through it without falling apart.  That's exactly what I did.  

So now, it's time for bed.  I feel good about today.  Day 11 and 12 have been positive for me.  I'm tired now though, so I'll continue tomorrow.  Many more lessons I cannot wait to share!